


Artificial Flavor

by KimuraSeiko



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Love Across The Universe: Dangan Salmon Team, M/M, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimuraSeiko/pseuds/KimuraSeiko
Summary: A teaparty for two.





	Artificial Flavor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaruMaruOwl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruMaruOwl/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my dearest girlfriend! I love you!!

“Thanks again, Mom!” Ouma said, pushing himself away from the table, resting for a moment before so much as considering the daunting task of getting up.

Seated as he was at the head of the opulent dinning table in Toujou’s lab, Ouma couldn’t help but feel like something of a king… as well-fed as one too.

“Are you feeling alright?” Toujou asked, frowning at Ouma’s hesitation to sprint away from the table as usual.

These sessions between them had been going on for a week now- ever since Ouma had popped into the kitchen for a snack one evening. Toujou had just so happened to be there (if Ouma’s constant keeping of tabs on the rest of his classmates could be taken as mere chance) and had offered to whip him up a little something. Despite the maid’s SHSL title, Ouma still couldn’t help but hold suspicions as to why anyone would want to put herself out like this.

The ‘little something’ had turned out to be a full four-course meal, on top of the dinner she had just provided for everyone only two hours earlier.

“I’m afraid that I couldn’t live with myself if I were to allow you to waste away,” Toujou had explained, gloved hands folded in front of her apron. “This is simply a part of my duty as a maid.”

And so, day after day, the portions had grown a incrementally larger, until Ouma could barely bring himself to his feet.

“Just thinkin’ about how I could have used a liiitle bit more dessert,” Ouma lied, patting at his tummy while wincing internally. It did feel more slightly more pronounced compared to the start of the feast. “But there’s always tomorrow, right?”

“True,” Toujou agreed with a nod, visibly relaxing.

Hefting himself to his feet, Ouma trotted out into hall. Surely, no one would notice if he disappeared into his room for a nap. He hadn’t exactly made himself out to be someone who would have date tickets thrust his way right and left, after all. It was just as well, of course. Ouma wasn’t interested in any of the girls, and certainly not in anyone who might want to change him into someone he just couldn’t be.

Although, he did have an eye on one other student, a certain someone with a particular penchant for unraveling lies…

“Ouma-kun!”

Turning on his heel, Ouma spotted not only Saihara, but also the date ticket he happened to be clutching, squeezing the tiny piece of paper as if he were trying to eke out the last bit of toothpaste in a tube.

Heart climbing its way tooth-and-nail up into his throat, Ouma forced it back down, despite the fact that his insides were already lacking in spare room at the moment.

Making certain not to glance at Saihara’s hands, Ouma teased, “Aha! You’re ready to join my secret organization, I see! Some of the initial honors and benefits have expired by now I’m afraid, but for you, I miiight be able to make a one-time exception…”

“No, no thank you,” Saihara replied mildly, as if he were actually taking the offer seriously. “What I actually wanted was to ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind having some tea with me.” He finished by holding out the crumpled date ticket, flimsy paper quiver slightly along with the noticeable tremor in his hand.

_Oh._

On any other day, Ouma would have jumped at the chance.

“Hmm… Lemme just check my schedule,” Ouma said, slipping the Monopad out of his pocket and casually beginning to scroll through it, despite the fact that he hadn’t anything personal stored on it. He preferred the feeling of pen on paper when taking notes. “I’ll have to shift some evil-doing around, but alrighty! I suppose I can squeeze you in,” he agreed after taking a moment to consult with his protesting stomach.

“Oh, er, okay…” Saihara blurted, blinking as if he had really expected that Ouma would turn him down. “I was thinking we could go out in the courtyard, if that’s alright. It’s pretty nice out today,” he added.

Not that it hadn’t been nice each and every day since they had been accosted and taken under the dome. The entire rest of the world could have blown away out there, for all they knew. Either way, he didn’t particularly like it out there, trapped underneath the artificial sky.

“Nope, that sounds terrible!” Ouma declared, finally relieving Saihara of the ticket, holding it up in the air like a prize.

“I’ll go get things set up.” Saihara rolled his eyes, although Ouma didn’t miss the flash of a bemused smile. “Can you meet me in half an hour?”

* * *

 

He did briefly consider showing up late--affording at least some time to digest-- and yet thirty minutes later, Ouma found himself seated on a courtyard bench beside Saihara, with a teapot and two cups situated between them.

Holding back a sigh of relief, Ouma reached for his cup, taking a gulp of the hot amber liquid. It was probably a good idea to wash down lunch anyway, even if he could feel that single sip struggling to find a place to settle between the excess of mingling foods. At least there weren’t any snacks set out.

“Is it alright like that?” Saihara asked suddenly, picking at the edge of his thumbnail, something he often did while fretful.

“Well, I mean, I _would_ prefer it in a jewel-encrusted chalice, but I suppose you can’t really be picky in our situation,” Ouma responded, gesturing toward the strange, transparent enclosure surrounding them.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t ask for sugar, that’s all.”

So focused had he been on the sensation of the hot liquid gliding down his throat into his over-filled stomach, that he had completely failed to register the taste. On second thought, it _was_ awfully bitter. Horrifically over-steeped, it had to have been Saihara’s own doing. The SHSL Maid would never have brewed something so unrefined.

Ouma took another sip, smacking his lips after. “It’s tasty! In fact, Saihara-chan should open up a teashop. Don’t murder mysteries always go down in teashops? I’m sure you’d get a good business going if you keep up with the detective gig on the side.”

“If you say so,” Saihara said, clearly taking the suggestion into deepest consideration.

Reaching underneath the bench, Saihara pulled out a box. Non-descript plain cardboard, it looked like he gotten it from the warehouse. “I’m not sure if you’ve already eaten or not, but I grabbed a few things on my way here just in case…”

Ouma’s stomach flopped heavily as Saihara folded down the box flaps, revealing treats upon treats resting neatly on top of the cloth napkin lining the inside. Cookies and scones were piled one on top of the other, stacked like shingles on the roof of a witch’s house. Was Saihara’s plan to fatten him up like in that story?

“Saihara-chan, how ever did you know?” Ouma declared with his best delighted gasp, snatching the box greedily out of Saihara’s hands. “I haven’t eaten a thing all day!”

For having just ‘grabbed a few things’, Saihara had obviously put a great deal of care into this entire tea party. It was almost annoying.

Dipping his hand inside of the box, Ouma pulled out a single scone, soft and doughy, glistening with vanilla bean glaze.

“Mmmph,” he groaned around the sweet pastry filling his mouth, making a show of licking his fingers after, all the while delighting in the shade of pink washing over Saihara’s face.

Although he really had only meant to eat just the one before taking off back to his room, it _was_ pretty delicious- both the treat and his date’s reaction to watching him stuff his face.

Ouma snickered, grabbing a cookie this time, fudgy and loaded with plump chips. “Hey, how about we make this a game?” He asked around another mouthful.

Saihara raised a brow, skeptical, although Ouma could still detect the same glimmer of interest in his eyes from the last time they had played a game together. “Like how?”

“Well, how about if I can’t eat every last one of these, you have to do everything I say for the rest of our stay here?” Ouma crunched pointedly.

“You really think I’d fall for that?” Saihara frowned, stealing a glance downward at the still nearly overflowing box of sweets.

Ouma finished off the second treat, quickly starting on another without pause. If he were to take a moment for breath, the persistent tightness inside his middle may have persuaded him to call the entire thing off.

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’!” he cackled impishly.

Whatever Saihara’s true answer to the proposed bet had been, he held it back, watching entranced as Ouma scarfed down the pile of baked goods.

As he continued to eat, Ouma could feel the grin on his face strain nearly as much as his already bloated belly.

His pants were digging in now, the pain forming along the circumference of his waistband played in time with the ache within his insides, struggling to push outward.

Taking another gulp of tea did little to help, but instead added to the discomfort as heat mingled with the mass of food already inside of him. He couldn’t help but put a hand to stomach, as if that could keep it from its current outward growth.

“Do you, er, need some help?” Saihara asked, gesturing toward the box. The way his brows were knit and lips still turned downward, Ouma may have thought that his little show was concerning Saihara more than anything else, if it weren’t for the fact that his cheeks still flushed pink.

“Sure do!” Ouma agreed readily, letting go of his gently protruding middle to grab hold of Saihara’s wrist. “Thought you’d never ask!”

Sprinkling crumbs from his fingers all over the sleeve of Saihara’s uniform, Ouma pressed the other boy’s hand onto his rounded stomach.

Saihara let out a squeak, hand twitching on Ouma’s belly, although he didn’t fully jerk away. “N-no,” he stammered, “I meant if you needed any help eating them…”

“Aww! Saihara-chan doesn’t love me anymore!” Ouma wailed, summoning fat globules of tears to his eyes. “He hates me so much that even touching my soft little tummy grosses him out!”

Saihara sighed, retracting his hand as he waited for Ouma to finish his latest outburst, taking a cookie for himself in the meantime without further invitation to partake in his own tea party.

“Yeah, I use some help eating them, actually,” Ouma admitted soberly following a particularly juicy sniffle.

Opening his mouth up wide as it would go, he bobbed his head forward like a needy bird.

“That’s not how I… You know what? Never mind, I give up.” Saihara picked up the very last scone—slowly, deliberately—as if he were muddling through a dream. Bringing the scone to Ouma’s lips, he hesitated a moment more and Ouma closed his eyes just in time to feel soft pastry pressing into his lower lip. Despite the various and raucous protests of his bulging stomach, Ouma accepted it into his mouth, Saihara only letting go once the tips of his long fingers brushed against his lips.

Ouma’s eyes fluttered open, blinking at the empty box, as if he hadn’t known that would be the last bite. “Hey, look at that! I won!”

Resigned to his fate, Saihara asked, “So what did want me to do?”

“I want you to… Hmm…” Ouma leapt up suddenly, wobbling a bit in the process, grabbing the empty box and shoving it at Saihara. “Feed me tea and snacks, just like this, everyday for the rest of our lives!”

 

 

 


End file.
